


Doctor Spy

by Johncowdrey



Category: action/adventure - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:48:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29556573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johncowdrey/pseuds/Johncowdrey
Summary: adventure set in 1968 mainly in West Africatwo t.v. characters get invoved





	Doctor Spy

**Author's Note:**

> a sort of a follow on from Cafe-Au- late, but its not necessary to  
> read that.

Doctor Spy  
Chapter 1  
Enugu province: Biafra (S.W. Nigeria)  
Late July 1968  
The old Dakota transport plane had somehow managed to dodge the jets  
of the Nigerian Air Force, that buzzed over the dense Biafran jungle like  
swarms of angry hornets.  
The 6 passengers in the plane were all, according to the aircrafts manifest,  
volunteers, medics of some kind and ostensibly members of the Red  
Cross, who had no interest in the rights and wrongs of Major General  
Ojukwo’s newly independent, oil rich, and battered Republic of Biafra.  
There was one woman on board, Staff Nurse Monica Hicks formerly of  
Cowley General Hospital, and sometime girlfriend of Detective Sergeant  
Endeavour Morse.  
The only other person of interest was Dr Jonathon Keyes, Cardiologist and  
Joan Thursday’s absent Fiancé.  
Mercifully someone on the ground had remembered to switch on the  
landing lights, and so Jonathon and his fellow mercenaries (as the other  
side liked to call them), had a relatively safe landing, and were soon  
jumping down from the aircraft’s escape hatch (with as far as they could tell  
everything intact), quickly picking up their back packs and various pieces  
of equipment, that had been thrown out of the Dakota by the aircrew, they  
hurried towards two beaten up land rovers from the Nigerian Red Cross,  
both of which were prominently displaying the Red Cross logo, and waiting  
in a nearby clearing.  
The drivers were all proudly wearing Red Cross armbands, and  
nonchalantly smoking and chatting in a local dialect while they waited for  
their 6 passengers to reach them. The volunteers were less than 50 yards  
away, when 2 R.P.G missiles streaked across the cloudless night sky from  
the east and slammed into the vehicles with an almighty whump, and the  
hapless drivers were thrown far into the Biafran bush by the blast, while the  
flames lit up the night sky.  
The blast had knocked Jonathon and his comrades senseless for a  
moment or two, and when he came to, he felt the cold steel of an Uzi sub  
machine pistol barrel being thrust harshly into the nape his neck.  
Oxford, England: 4 months later  
Early November 1968  
Morse couldn’t believe it. It had to happen tonight of all nights, the rubbish  
plumbing of the people in the upstairs flat had burst, while he was at work.  
When he got home the worst was over. The Fire Brigade had turned the  
water off, and he, Morse was left to deal with the widespread disaster of  
plaster, dust, wattle and daub, and a small lake of smelly, filthy dirty water,  
which was constantly being added to by the water dripping from the ceiling.  
This manmade lake now covered his bedroom, kitchen and most of his  
lounge.  
He had made every preparation for his attempt at seducing Joan, even  
though he was not at all happy about having his arm twisted, and if the  
truth was told not very optimistic of success. Romantic popular music (of  
the kind Joan would like), a couple of bottles of Joan’s favourite wine, and a  
bottle of Brut aftershave that she found sexy, but that he personally couldn’t  
stand.  
He had even hired the lady next door to give his flat a top to bottom going  
over, making sure she changed his old bed linen for the black silky set he  
had bought specially for tonight. He had laid the ground work last week,  
when Joan had opened up her heart to him about her newish boyfriend  
Jonathon, and when he had made his feelings for her plain, she had sort of  
agreed to think about what he had said. He was being sincere with her  
which is more than could be said about that bastard Keyes.  
Morse could be a bit mean spirited sometimes, it went with the job, but poor  
Joan’s deception by her “Peter Perfect” boyfriend with movie star looks  
just rankled, and brought out the worst in him, as he realised that sticking it  
to Jonathon would give him almost as much pleasure as bedding the  
delectable Miss Thursday.  
Looking around the chaos that was now his flat, he thought the only thing  
for it was to phone Joan up and cancel, but she wouldn’t hear of it, she  
insisted he came over to her place, as both her flatmates were out for the  
evening, so they could discuss something in private.  
Morse was in the middle of an abstruse case, which began with a television  
game show, a branch of M.I.5, a former professor of his, the local  
newsagent and a world famous per fumier,” but could anything really  
match the enigma that was Joan Thursday” he thought as he made his way  
to her flat to keep the date they had just arranged. “Perhaps that’s the  
eternal attraction she has for me, has Joan bewitched me? Will I ever be  
able to find love because of the hold she has over me?”  
Morse decided it was time to stop feeling sorry for himself and to put self-doubts away, and find out why Miss Thursday was so anxious to see him  
tonight.  
Morse climbed the three steps leading up to Joan’s front door, but before  
he could ring the doorbell; a very pretty girl came out and gave him a big  
smile and said  
“How are you Morse”, before going on her way. It was Helen, the student  
flatmate of Joan, who worked in a local pub to supplement her grant.  
A minute or two after ringing the bell, Joan came to the door in a towelling  
robe, and she was rubbing her long hair with a towel, after obviously having  
a bath.  
“You’d better come in Morse; there is something I want you to see, “she  
says with a worried look on her face.  
As Morse sat down on the comfortable sofa in the lounge, he was hoping to  
be offered a drink, but Joan was far too busy looking for something in her  
bedroom to worry about the niceties of hospitality.  
Finally, Joan had found what she was looking for, and proffered an official  
looking envelope over to Morse for his inspection.  
“Right I am going to get dressed while you read this” Joan  
said somewhat bossily.  
Ten minutes later she emerged from her bedroom in Levi’s,  
a white blouse and white plimsolls.  
“What do you think it’s about Morse, it came first post this morning.”  
Morse read it again;  
The headed paper was from a dept. within the Board of Trade.  
It read;  
Dear Miss Thursday,  
We wish to speak to you on a matter of National and Personal  
importance. Please telephone ................. and ask for ext. ........  
to make an appointment. Your discretion is of the utmost importance.  
It was signed by his new/old boss Colonel Saunders  
London, Whitehall S.W.I  
Late October 1968: 2 weeks ago  
As Morse sat outside the nondescript office of his former Commanding  
Officer Colonel Saunders, he wondered not for the first time, what the hell  
was he doing here?  
The Colonel was a sort of mentor of his (similar to D.C.I. Thursday) from  
back in the days of his National Service with the Royal Signals. The phone  
call he got from the Colonel was not a request, and so here he was. From  
what Morse knew of the now shadowy Colonel, its best not to mess with  
him, just go with the flow.  
“Come in Morse, and take a seat.”  
“First things first, I need you to sign this, here and here and  
date it on the dotted line.”  
Morse read the orange form very carefully, it was a copy of The Official  
Secrets Act. Knowing better than to refuse, he duly signed and dated  
where asked. After putting the form in a file, the Colonel goes on  
“Of course, this is a mere formality, if you disclose to a third party what we  
are to discuss, the penalty would be extreme”  
“You mean I would be shot.”  
“Quite so Morse”  
The Colonel opened a plain manila file he had just taken from the wall safe,  
and took out three colour photos, which had obviously been taken without  
the subject’s knowledge or permission.  
“Is this person known to you?”  
“Of course, it’s Joan Thursday, my boss’s daughter”  
“What about this one?”  
“Yes, its Claudine Duval, she’s my girlfriend, we were planning on getting  
engaged shortly.”  
“Don’t! Get rid of her, we know her better as Major Irina Boursin, a K.G. B.  
operative with their Illegal’s dept. It is her Job to snare you into marriage,  
and turn you, in time, into a Soviet double agent. The Russian security  
services are well aware of your talents, and that a dept. of M.I.5. are  
interested in recruiting you.”  
Morse was stunned by his words, but continued,  
“In other words, she’s part of a honey trap”  
“I could not have put it better myself, Morse.”  
Colonel Saunders then passed across the final photo of a very handsome  
man, in his late twenties with blue eyes and blonde hair, cut short.  
“I haven’t a clue about him Colonel”  
“Well let me introduce Brigadier General Yevgeny Smirnov”  
“Is something amusing you Morse?”  
“No sir, just a tickle in the back of my throat.”  
The Colonel passes across a carafe of water and a tumbler, and then  
carried on with his description.  
“He is by far the youngest General in the K.G.B, and the only holder  
of the Order of the Red Banner under fifty years of age. It was awarded to  
him personally by Leonid Brezhnev. He is a man of mystery; we know next  
to nothing about him, apart from the fact he is a qualified Doctor, and has a  
number of aliases. Miss Thursday would have known him as Doctor  
Jonathon Keyes, a Cardiologist at Guys Hospital London.  
Everything else he told her would probably be a pack of lies, I can’t over  
state how dangerous this man is, and he would not hesitate to eliminate  
Miss Thursday, should the need arise.”  
He has two missions at present, setting up a spy cell with the help of  
Boursin, to probably replace an existing one that is past it’s sell by date,  
and by recruiting Joan Thursday and yourself as operatives, by whatever  
means it takes. Secondly causing trouble in Biafra, that’s where he is now.  
Again, we know nothing of his aims there.”  
“Why would he be interested in Joan?”  
“Who knows? but probably because of her very public left-wing views, her  
respectable background, and he would believe she is a vulnerable  
personality, compliant after her experiences during the Wessex Bank raid,  
the treatment she received from Morton, her abusive boyfriend, and of  
course her miscarriage last year.”  
(Morse is amazed that he knows so much about Joan’s private life, and  
wonders what he knows about his).  
“He will obviously begin by grooming her for greater things when he  
believes he has her under his control, perhaps a career in politics or the  
civil service. Keyes is also heterosexual, and she is very attractive.”  
“I see that makes sense but what do you want me for?”  
“Primarily to keep an eye on Miss Thursday, we need to know whether  
Keyes has turned her yet, we know they were lovers until he left for Biafra,  
and she considers they are engaged. Has he been in touch with her since?  
Has he come back to the U.K? She might know, but we’re not sure, putting  
it bluntly Morse we need you to become her new lover, so she tells you  
everything we need to know; pillow talk I think is the phrase”  
“You mean seduction, don’t you? I think she has been let down enough”  
Saunders shrugs his shoulders and says  
“You can always ask her to marry you, I can think of many worse fates”  
he says flippantly while looking admiringly at her photo.  
“And if I refuse to do what you ask?” Morse says stubbornly.  
“Don’t refuse......for both your sakes”  
Enugu province: Biafra (S.W.Nigeria)  
Late July 1968  
“O.k. white boy you can get up now, the fireworks are over,”  
Jonathon can feel the muzzle of the gun being removed from his neck, and  
he gets a kick from a hobnail boot to his arse to encourage him to get a  
move on.  
An Officer appears at the scene, and after inspecting his prisoners,  
demands at the top of his voice,  
“We need to see your papers, are any of you British Special Forces”  
the officer in charge says in perfect English.  
A minute or two later he begins to get impatient, and without warning he  
pulls a Russian Tokayev pistol from its holster, and shoots the nearest man  
to him in the back of his head, blowing his brains out, and even shocking  
his own men.  
“Unless you step forward now, every white man here will have his fucking  
head blown off, and maybe this black bitch too.....after I have finished with  
her of course “as he leers at Staff Nurse Hicks .  
Three covert members of the S.A.S., raise their hands, and are  
immediately set upon by Biafran soldiers, who beat them mercilessly before  
they are dragged away to be interrogated or tortured or both.  
The Biafran Major steps forward towards Jonathon, he bows his head, and  
then he salutes saying,  
“Brigadier General, I am honoured, welcome to The Republic of Biafra”  
Jonathon returned the salute and said,  
“Thank you for the “warm” welcome and disposing of our “excess baggage”  
nodding towards the dead man who was missing most of his skull.  
“I would like to introduce my personal bodyguard, Comrade  
Sergeant Petrushka Borzoi” Jonathon says while gesturing towards Staff  
Nurse Monica Hicks, who comes to attention and smartly salutes  
the Biafran Major.  
To be continued

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed


End file.
